No More Learning

And then her
mind went on to a bolder enterprise, which was to get him home. The
nearer she could bring him to the log hut, the nearer they would be to
supplies.

She cast about for some sort of sledge. The snow was too soft and broken
for runners, especially among the trees, but if she could get a flat of
smooth wood, she thought she might be able to drag him. She decided to
try the side of her bunk, which she could easily get off. She would
have, of course, to run it edgewise through the thickets and across the
ravine, but after that she would have almost clear going up to the steep
place of broken rocks within two hundred yards of him. The idea of a
sledge grew upon her, and she planned to nail a rope along the edge and
make a kind of harness for herself.

Marjorie found the camping-place piled high with drifted snow, which had
invaded tent and hut, and that some beast, a wolverine she guessed, had
been into the hut, devoured every candle-end and the uppers of
Trafford's well-greased second boots, and had then gone to the corner of
the store-shed and clambered up to the stores. She took no account of
its [v]depredations there, but set herself to make a sledge and get her
supplies together. There was a gleam of sunshine, though she did not
like the look of the sky and she was horribly afraid of what might be
happening to Trafford. She carried her stuff through the wood and across
the ravine, and returned for her improvised sledge. She was still
struggling with that among the trees when it began to snow again.

It was hard then not to be frantic in her efforts. As it was, she packed
her stuff so loosely on the planking that she had to repack it, and she
started without putting on her snowshoes, and floundered fifty yards
before she discovered that omission. The snow was now falling fast,
darkling the sky and hiding everything but objects close at hand, and
she had to use all of her wits to determine her direction: she knew she
must go down a long slope and then up to the ridge, and it came to her
as a happy inspiration that if she bore to the left she might strike
some recognizable vestige of her morning's trail. She had read of people
walking in circles when they have no light or guidance, and that
troubled her until she bethought herself of the little compass on her
watch chain. By that she kept her direction. She wished very much she
had timed herself across the waste, so that she could tell when she
approached the ridge.

Soon her back and shoulders were aching violently, and the rope across
her chest was tugging like some evil-tempered thing. But she did not
dare to rest. The snow was now falling thick and fast; the flakes traced
white spirals and made her head spin, so that she was constantly falling
away to the southwestward and then correcting herself by the compass.
She tried to think how this zig-zagging might affect her course, but the
snow whirls confused her mind and a growing anxiety would not let her
pause to think.

Marjorie felt blinded; it seemed to be snowing inside her eyes so that
she wanted to rub them. Soon the ground must rise to the ridge, she told
herself; it must surely rise. Then the sledge came bumping at her heels
and she perceived that she was going down hill. She consulted the
compass and found she was facing south. She turned sharply to the right
again. The snowfall became a noiseless, pitiless torture to sight and
mind.

The sledge behind her struggled to hold her back, and the snow balled
under her snowshoes. She wanted to stop and rest, take thought, sit for
a moment. She struggled with herself and kept on. She tried walking with
shut eyes, and tripped and came near sprawling. "Oh God! " she cried, "Oh
God! " too stupefied for more [v]articulate prayers. She was leaden with
fatigue.

Would the rise of the ground to the ribs of rock never come?

A figure, black and erect, stood in front of her suddenly, and beyond
appeared a group of black, straight antagonists. She staggered on toward
them, gripping her rifle with some muddled idea of defense, and in
another moment she was brushing against the branches of a stunted fir,
which shed thick lumps of snow upon her feet. What trees were these? Had
she ever passed any trees? No! There were no trees on her way to
Trafford.

At that Marjorie began whimpering like a tormented child. But even as
she wept, she turned her sledge about to follow the edge of the wood.
She was too much downhill, she thought, and must bear up again.

She left the trees behind, made an angle uphill to the right, and was
presently among trees again. Again she left them and again came back to
them. She screamed with anger and twitched her sledge along. She wiped
at the snowstorm with her arm as though to wipe it away; she wanted to
stamp on the universe.

And she ached, she ached.

Suddenly something caught her eye ahead, something that gleamed; it was
exactly like a long, bare, rather pinkish bone standing erect on the
ground. Just because it was strange and queer she ran forward to it. As
she came nearer, she perceived that it was a streak of barked trunk; a
branch had been torn off a pine tree and the bark stripped down to the
root. And then came another, poking its pinkish wounds above the snow.
And there were chips! This filled her with wonder. Some one had been
cutting wood! There must be Indians or trappers near, she thought, and
of a sudden realized that the wood-cutter could be none other than
herself.

She turned to the right and saw the rocks rising steeply, close at hand.
"Oh Ragg! " she cried, and fired her rifle in the air.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, and then so loud and near it amazed her,
came his answering shot.

In another moment Marjorie had discovered the trail she had made
overnight and that morning by dragging firewood. It was now a shallow,
soft white trench. Instantly her despair and fatigue had gone from her.
Should she take a load of wood with her? she asked herself, in addition
to the weight behind her, and immediately had a better idea. She would
unload and pile her stuff here, and bring him down on the sledge closer
to the wood. The woman looked about and saw two rocks that diverged,
with a space between. She flashed schemes. She would trample the snow
hard and flat, put her sledge on it, pile boughs and make a canopy of
blanket overhead and behind. Finally there would be a fine, roaring
fire in front.

She tossed her provisions down and ran up the broad windings of her
pine-tree trail to Trafford, with the sledge bumping behind her.
Marjorie ran as lightly as though she had done nothing that day.

She found Trafford markedly recovered, weak and quiet, with snow
drifting over his feet, his rifle across his knees, and his pipe alight.
"Back already"--

He hesitated. "No grub? "

The wife knelt over him, gave his rough, unshaven cheek a swift kiss,
and rapidly explained her plan.

Marjorie carried it out with all of the will-power that was hers. In
three days' time, in spite of the snow, in spite of every other
obstacle, they were back in the hut, and Trafford was comfortably
settled in bed. The icy vastness of Labrador still lay around them to
infinite distances on every side, but the two might laugh at storm and
darkness now in their cosy hut, with plenty of fuel and food and light.

H. G. WELLS.


=HELPS TO STUDY=

I. Describe the location of Trafford's camp; also the coming of
winter. Give in your own words an account of the adventure that
befell the two.

II. Name some characteristics Marjorie showed in the critical
situation. What did she do that impressed you most? What would you
have done in similar circumstances?


SUPPLEMENTARY READING

Youth--Joseph Conrad.
Prairie Folks--Hamlin Garland.
Northern Lights--Sir Gilbert Parker.




THE BUGLE SONG

The splendor falls on castle walls
The snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying.
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

ALFRED TENNYSON.




THE SIEGE OF THE CASTLE


This story is an extract from Sir Walter Scott's novel, _Ivanhoe_,
which describes life in England during the Middle Ages, something
more than a century after the Norman Conquest. The hatred between
the conquering Normans and the conquered Saxons still continued,
and is graphically pictured by Scott. _Ivanhoe_ centers about the
household of one Cedric the Saxon, who was a great upholder of the
traditions of his unfortunate people. Wilfred of Ivanhoe, Cedric's
son, entered the service of the Norman king of England, Richard I,
and accompanied him to the Holy Land on the Third Crusade. His
father disowned the young knight for what he considered disloyalty
to his Saxon blood. Ivanhoe, returning to England, participated in
a great tournament at Ashby, in which he won fame under the
disguise of the "Disinherited Knight. " Among the other knights who
took part in the tournament were the Normans, Maurice de Bracy,
Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a Knight
Templar. Two sides fought in the tournament, one representing the
English, the other representing the foreign element in the land. An
unknown knight, clad in black armor, brought victory to the English
side, but left the field without disclosing his identity. An
archery contest held at the tournament was won by a wonderful
bowman who gave his name as Locksley. Ivanhoe, who fought with
great valor, was badly wounded. Cedric had been accompanied to
Ashby by his beautiful ward, the Lady Rowena, whose wealth and
loveliness excited the cupidity of the lawless Norman knights. "The
Siege of the Castle" opens with Cedric's discovery of his son's
identity, and recounts the stirring incidents that follow the
tournament. It gives a wonderful picture of warfare as it was
hundreds of years ago, before the age of gunpowder.


I

When Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop down senseless in the great
tournament at Ashby, his first impulse was to order him into the care of
his own attendants, but the words choked in his throat. He could not
bring himself to acknowledge, in the presence of such an assembly, the
son whom he had renounced and disinherited for his allegiance to the
Norman king of England, Richard of the Lion Heart. However, he ordered
one of the officers of his household, his cupbearer, to convey Ivanhoe
to Ashby as soon as the crowd had dispersed. But the man was anticipated
in this good office. The crowd dispersed, indeed, but the wounded knight
was nowhere to be seen.

It seemed as if the fairies had conveyed Ivanhoe from the spot; and
Cedric's officer might have adopted some such theory to account for his
disappearance, had he not suddenly cast his eyes on a person attired
like a squire, in whom he recognized the features of his fellow-servant
Gurth, who had run away from his master. Anxious about Ivanhoe's fate,
Gurth was searching for him everywhere and, in so doing, he neglected
the concealment on which his own safety depended. The cupbearer deemed
it his duty to secure Gurth as a fugitive of whose fate his master was
to judge. Renewing his inquiries concerning the fate of Ivanhoe, all
that the cupbearer could learn was that the knight had been raised by
certain well-attired grooms, under the direction of a veiled woman, and
placed in a litter, which had immediately transported him out of the
press. The officer, on receiving this intelligence, resolved to return
to his master, carrying along with him Gurth, the swineherd, as a
deserter from Cedric's service.

The Saxon had been under intense [v]apprehensions concerning his son;
but no sooner was he informed that Ivanhoe was in careful hands than
paternal anxiety gave way anew to the feeling of injured pride and
resentment at what he termed Wilfred's [v]filial disobedience.

"Let him wander his way," said Cedric; "let those leech his wounds for
whose sake he encountered them. He is fitter to do the juggling tricks
of the Norman chivalry than to maintain the fame and honor of his
English ancestry with the [v]glaive and [v]brown-bill, the good old
weapons of the country. "

The old Saxon now prepared for his return to Rotherwood, with his ward,
the Lady Rowena, and his following. It was during the bustle preceding
his departure that Cedric, for the first time, cast his eyes upon the
deserter Gurth. He was in no very placid humor and wanted but a pretext
for wreaking his anger upon some one.

"The [v]gyves! " he cried. "Dogs and villains, why leave ye this knave
unfettered? "

Without daring to remonstrate, the companions of Gurth bound him with a
halter, as the readiest cord which occurred. He submitted to the
operation without any protest, except that he darted a reproachful look
at his master.

"To horse, and forward! " ordered Cedric.

"It is indeed full time," said the Saxon prince Athelstane, who
accompanied Cedric, "for if we ride not faster, the preparations for our
supper will be altogether spoiled. "

The travelers, however, used such speed as to reach the convent of Saint
Withold's before the apprehended evil took place. The abbot, himself of
ancient Saxon descent, received the noble Saxons with the profuse
hospitality of their nation, wherein they indulged to a late hour. They
took leave of their reverend host the next morning after they had shared
with him a [v]sumptuous breakfast, which Athelstane particularly
appreciated.

The superstitious Saxons, as they left the convent, were inspired with a
feeling of coming evil by the behavior of a large, lean black dog,
which, sitting upright, howled most piteously when the foremost riders
left the gate, and presently afterward, barking wildly and jumping to
and fro, seemed bent on attaching itself to the party.

"In my mind," said Athelstane, "we had better turn back and abide with
the abbot until the afternoon. It is unlucky to travel where your path
is crossed by a monk, a hare, or a howling dog, until you have eaten
your next meal. "

"Away! " said Cedric impatiently; "the day is already too short for our
journey. For the dog, I know it to be the cur of the runaway slave
Gurth, a useless fugitive like its master. "

So saying and rising at the same time in his stirrups, impatient at the
interruption of his journey, he launched his [v]javelin at poor Fangs,
who, having lost his master, was now rejoicing at his reappearance. The
javelin inflicted a wound upon the animal's shoulder and narrowly missed
pinning him to the earth; Fangs fled howling from the presence of the
enraged [v]thane. Gurth's heart swelled within him, for he felt this
attempted slaughter of his faithful beast in a degree much deeper than
the harsh treatment he had himself received. Having in vain raised his
hand to his eyes, he said to Wamba, the jester, who, seeing his master's
ill humor, had prudently retreated to the rear, "I pray thee, do me the
kindness to wipe my eyes with the skirt of thy mantle; the dust offends
me, and these bonds will not let me help myself one way or another. "

Wamba did him the service he required, and they rode side by side for
some time, during which Gurth maintained a moody silence. At length he
could repress his feelings no longer.

"Friend Wamba," said he, "of all those who are fools enough to serve
Cedric, thou alone hast sufficient dexterity to make thy folly
acceptable to him. Go to him, therefore, and tell him that neither for
love nor fear will Gurth serve him longer. He may strike the head from
me--he may scourge me--he may load me with irons--but henceforth he
shall never compel me either to love or obey him. Go to him and tell him
that Gurth renounces his service. "

"Assuredly," replied Wamba, "fool as I am, I will not do your fool's
errand. Cedric hath another javelin stuck into his girdle, and thou
knowest he doth not always miss his mark. "

"I care not," returned Gurth, "how soon he makes a mark of me. Yesterday
he left Wilfred, my young master, in his blood. To-day he has striven to
kill the only other living creature that ever showed me kindness. By
Saint Edward, Saint Dunstan, Saint Withold, and every other saint, I
will never forgive him! "

At noon, upon the motion of Athelstane, the travelers paused in a
woodland shade by a fountain to repose their horses and partake of some
provisions with which the hospitable abbot had loaded a [v]sumpter mule.
Their repast was a pretty long one; and the interruption made it
impossible for them to hope to reach Rotherwood without traveling all
night, a conviction which induced them to proceed on their way at a more
hasty pace than they had hitherto used.

The travelers had now reached the verge of the wooded country and were
about to plunge into its recesses, held dangerous at that time from the
number of outlaws whom oppression and poverty had driven to despair and
who occupied the forests in such large bands as could easily bid
defiance to the feeble police of the period. From these rovers, however,
Cedric and Athelstane accounted themselves secure, as they had in
attendance ten servants, besides Wamba and Gurth, whose aid could not be
counted upon, the one being a jester and the other a captive. It may be
added that in traveling thus late through the forest, Cedric and
Athelstane relied on their descent and character as well as their
courage. The outlaws were chiefly peasants and [v]yeomen of Saxon
descent, and were generally supposed to respect the persons and property
of their countrymen.

Before long, as the travelers journeyed on their way, they were alarmed
by repeated cries for assistance; and when they rode up to the place
whence the cries came, they were surprised to find a horse-litter placed
on the ground. Beside it sat a very beautiful young woman richly dressed
in the Jewish fashion, while an old man, whose yellow cap proclaimed him
to belong to the same nation, walked up and down with gestures of the
deepest despair and wrung his hands.

When he began to come to himself out of his agony of terror, the old
man, named Isaac of York, explained that he had hired a bodyguard of
six men at Ashby, together with mules for carrying the litter of a sick
friend. This party had undertaken to escort him to Doncaster. They had
come thus far in safety; but having received information from a
wood-cutter that a strong band of outlaws was lying in wait in the woods
before them, Isaac's [v]mercenaries had not only taken to flight, but
had carried off the horses which bore the litter and left the Jew and
his daughter without the means either of defense or of retreat. Isaac
ended by imploring the Saxons to let him travel with them. Cedric and
Athelstane were somewhat in doubt as to what to do, but the matter was
settled by Rowena's intervention.

"The man is old and feeble," she said to Cedric, "the maiden young and
beautiful, their friend sick and in peril of his life. We cannot leave
them in this extremity. Let the men unload two of the sumpter-mules and
put the baggage behind two of the [v]serfs. The mules may transport the
litter, and we have led-horses for the old man and his daughter. "

Cedric readily assented to what was proposed, and the change of baggage
was hastily achieved; for the single word "outlaws" rendered every one
sufficiently alert, and the approach of twilight made the sound yet more
impressive. Amid the bustle, Gurth was taken from horseback, in the
course of which removal he prevailed upon the jester to slack the cord
with which his arms were bound. It was so negligently refastened,
perhaps intentionally, on the part of Wamba, that Gurth found no
difficulty in freeing his arms altogether, and then, gliding into the
thicket, he made his escape from the party.

His departure was hardly noticed in the apprehension of the moment. The
path upon which the party traveled was now so narrow as not to admit,
with any sort of convenience, above two riders abreast, and began to
descend into a dingle, traversed by a brook, the banks of which were
broken, swampy, and overgrown with dwarf willows. Cedric and Athelstane,
who were at the head of their [v]retinue, saw the risk of being attacked
in this pass, but neither knew anything else to do than hasten through
the defile as fast as possible. Advancing, therefore, without much
order, they had just crossed the brook with a part of their followers,
when they were assailed, in front, flank, and rear at once, by a band of
armed men. The shout of a "White dragon! Saint George for merry
England! " the war cry of the Saxons, was heard on every side, and on
every side enemies appeared with a rapidity of advance and attack which
seemed to multiply their numbers.

Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment. Cedric,
the instant an enemy appeared, launched at him his javelin, which,
taking better effect than that which he had hurled at Fangs, nailed the
man against an oak-tree that happened to be close behind him. Thus far
successful, Cedric spurred his horse against a second, drawing his sword
and striking with such inconsiderate fury that his weapon encountered a
thick branch which hung over him, and he was disarmed by the violence of
his own blow. He was instantly made prisoner and pulled from his horse
by two or three of the [v]banditti who crowded around him. Athelstane
shared his captivity, his bridle having been seized and he himself
forcibly dismounted long before he could draw his sword.
The attendants, embarrassed with baggage and surprised and terrified at
the fate of their master, fell an easy prey to the assailants; while the
Lady Rowena and the Jew and his daughter experienced the same
misfortune.

Of all the train none escaped but Wamba, who showed upon the occasion
much more courage than those who pretended to greater sense. He
possessed himself of a sword belonging to one of the domestics, who was
just drawing it, laid it about him like a lion, drove back several who
approached him, and made a brave though ineffectual effort to succor his
master. Finding himself overpowered, the jester threw himself from his
horse, plunged into a thicket, and, favored by the general confusion,
escaped from the scene of action.

Suddenly a voice very near him called out in a low and cautious tone,
"Wamba! " and, at the same time, a dog which he recognized as Fangs
jumped up and fawned upon him. "Gurth! " answered Wamba with the same
caution, and the swineherd immediately stood before him.

"What is the matter? " he asked. "What mean these cries and that clashing
of swords? "

"Only a trick of the times," answered Wamba. "They are all prisoners. "

"Who are prisoners? "

"My lord, and my lady, and Athelstane, and the others. "

"In the name of God," demanded Gurth, "how came they prisoners? and to
whom? "

"They are prisoners to green [v]cassocks and black [v]vizors," answered
Wamba. "They all lie tumbled about on the green, like the crab-apples
that you shake down to your swine. And I would laugh at it," added the
honest jester, "if I could for weeping. "

He shed tears of unfeigned sorrow.

Gurth's countenance kindled. "Wamba," he said, "thou hast a weapon and
thy heart was ever stronger than thy brain. We are only two, but a
sudden attack from men of resolution might do much. Follow me! "

"Whither, and for what purpose? " asked the jester.

"To rescue Cedric. "

"But you renounced his service just now. "

"That," said Gurth, "was while he was fortunate. Follow me. "

As the jester was about to obey, a third person suddenly made his
appearance and commanded them both to halt. From his dress and arms
Wamba would have conjectured him to be one of the outlaws who had just
assailed his master; but, besides that he wore no mask, the glittering
baldric across his shoulders, with the rich bugle horn which it
supported, as well as the calm and commanding expression of his voice
and manner, made the jester recognize the archer who had won the prize
at the tournament and who was known as Locksley.

"What is the meaning of all this? " the man demanded. "Who are they that
rifle and ransom and make prisoners in these forests? "

"You may look at their cassocks close by," replied Wamba, "and see
whether they be thy children's coats or no, for they are as like thine
own as one green pea-pod is like another. "

"I will learn that presently," returned Locksley: "and I charge ye, on
peril of your lives, not to stir from this place where ye stand until I
have returned. Obey me, and it shall be the better for you and your
masters. Yet stay; I must render myself as like these men as possible. "

So saying, he drew a [v]vizard from his pouch, and, repeating his
charges to them to stand fast, went to reconnoitre.

"Shall we stay, Gurth? " asked Wamba; "or shall we give him [v]leg-bail?
In my foolish mind, he had all the equipage of a thief too much in
readiness to be himself a true man. "

"Let him be the devil," said Gurth, "an he will. We can be no worse for
waiting his return. If he belongs to that party, he must already have
given them the alarm, and it will avail us nothing either to fight or
fly. "

The yeoman returned in the course of a few minutes.

"Friend Gurth," he said, "I have mingled among yon men and have learned
to whom they belong, and whither they are bound. There is, I think, no
chance that they will proceed to any actual violence against their
prisoners. For three men to attack them at this moment were little else
than madness; for they are good men of war and have, as such, placed
sentinels to give the alarm when any one approaches. But I trust soon to
gather such a force as may act in defiance of all their precautions. You
are both servants, and, as I think, faithful servants of Cedric the
Saxon, the friend of the rights of Englishmen. He shall not want English
hands to help him in this extremity. Come then with me, until I gather
more aid. "

So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, followed by the
jester and the swineherd. The three men proceeded with occasional
converse but, for the most part, in silence for about three hours.
Finally they arrived at a small opening in the forest, in the center of
which grew an oak-tree of enormous magnitude, throwing its twisted
branches in every direction. Beneath this tree four or five yeomen lay
stretched on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro
in the moonlight.

Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch instantly gave the
alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly started up and bent their bows. Six
arrows placed on the string were pointed toward the quarter from which
the travelers approached, when their guide, being recognized, was
welcomed with every token of respect and attachment.

"Where is the miller? " was Locksley's first question.

"On the road toward Rotherham. "

"With how many? " demanded the leader, for such he seemed to be.

"With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please Saint Nicholas. "

"Devoutly spoken," said Locksley. "And where is Allan-a-Dale? "

"Walked up toward the [v]Watling Street, to watch for the Prior of
Jorvaulx. "

"That is well thought on also," replied the captain. "And where is the
friar? "

"In his cell. "

"Thither will I go," said Locksley. "Disperse and seek your companions.
Collect what force you can, for there's game afoot that must be hunted
hard and will turn to bay. Meet me here at daybreak. And stay," he
added; "I have forgotten what is most necessary of the whole. Two of you
take the road quickly toward Torquilstone, the castle of
[v]Front-de-Boeuf. A set of gallants, who have been [v]masquerading in
such guise as our own, are carrying a band of prisoners thither. Watch
them closely, for, even if they reach the castle before we collect our
force, our honor is concerned to punish them, and we will find means to
do so. Keep a good watch on them, therefore, and despatch one of your
comrades to bring the news of the yeomen thereabouts. "

The men promised obedience and departed on their several errands.
Meanwhile, their leader and his two companions, who now looked upon him
with great respect as well as some fear, pursued their way to the chapel
where dwelt the friar mentioned by Locksley. Presently they reached a
little moonlit glade, in front of which stood an ancient and ruinous
chapel and beside it a rude hermitage of stone half-covered with ivy
vines.

The sounds which proceeded at that moment from the latter place were
anything but churchly. In fact, the hermit and another voice were
performing at the full extent of very powerful lungs an old
drinking-song, of which this was the burden:

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me,
Bully boy, bully boy;
Come trowl the brown bowl to me:
Ho! jolly Jenkin, I spy a knave drinking;
Come trowl the brown bowl to me.

"Now, that is not ill sung," said Wamba, who had thrown in a few of his
own flourishes to help out the chorus. "But who, in the saint's name,
ever expected to have heard such a jolly chant come from a hermit's cell
at midnight? "

"Marry, that should I," said Gurth, "for the jolly Clerk of Copmanhurst
is a known man and kills half the deer that are stolen in this walk. Men
say that the deer-keeper has complained of him and that he will be
stripped of his [v]cowl and [v]cope altogether if he keep not better
order. "

While they were thus speaking, Locksley's loud and repeated knocks had
at length disturbed the [v]anchorite and his guest, who was a knight of
singularly powerful build and open, handsome face, and in black armor.

"By my beads," said the hermit, "here come other guests. I would not for
my cowl that they found us in this goodly exercise. All men have
enemies, sir knight; and there be those malignant enough to construe the
hospitable refreshment I have been offering to you, a weary traveler,
into drinking and gluttony, vices alike alien to my profession and my
disposition. "

"Base [v]calumniators! " replied the knight. "I would I had the
chastising of them. Nevertheless, holy clerk, it is true that all have
their enemies; and there be those in this very land whom I would rather
speak to through the bars of my helmet than bare-faced. "

"Get thine iron pot on thy head, then, sir knight," said the hermit,
"while I remove these pewter flagons. "

He struck up a thundering [v]_De profundis clamavi_, under cover of
which he removed the apparatus of their banquet, while the knight,
laughing heartily and arming himself all the while, assisted his host
with his voice from time to time as his mirth permitted.

"What devil's [v]matins are you after at this hour? " demanded a voice
from outside.

"Heaven forgive you, sir traveler! " said the hermit, whose own noise
prevented him from recognizing accents which were tolerably familiar to
him. "Wend on your way, in the name of God and Saint Dunstan, and
disturb not the devotions of me and my holy brother. "

"Mad priest," answered the voice from without; "open to Locksley! "

"All's safe--all's right," said the hermit to his companion.

"But who is he? " asked the Black Knight. "It imports me much to know. "

"Who is he? " answered the hermit. "I tell thee he is a friend. "

"But what friend? " persisted the knight; "for he may be a friend to thee
and none of mine. "

"What friend? " replied the hermit; "that now is one of the questions
that is more easily asked than answered. "

"Well, open the door," ordered the knight, "before he beat it from its
hinges. "

The hermit speedily unbolted his portal and admitted Locksley, with his
two companions.

"Why, hermit," was the yeoman's first question as soon as he beheld the
knight, "what boon companion hast thou here? "

"A brother of our order," replied the friar, shaking his head; "we have
been at our devotions all night. "

"He is a monk of the church militant," answered Locksley; "and there be
more of them abroad. I tell thee, friar, thou must lay down the
[v]rosary and take up the [v]quarter-staff; we shall need every one of
our merry men, whether clerk or layman. But," he added, taking a step
aside, "art thou mad--to give admittance to a knight thou dost not know?
Hast thou forgotten our agreement? "

"Good yeoman," said the knight, coming forward, "be not wroth with my
merry host. He did but afford me the hospitality which I would have
compelled from him if he had refused it. "

"Thou compel! " cried the friar. "Wait but till I have changed this gray
gown for a green cassock, and if I make not a quarter-staff ring twelve
upon thy pate, I am neither true clerk nor good woodsman. "

While he spoke thus he stript off his gown and appeared in a close
buckram doublet and lower garment, over which he speedily did on a
cassock of green and hose of the same color.

"I pray thee [v]truss my points," he said to Wamba, "and thou shalt have
a cup of sack for thy labor. "

"[v]Gramercy for thy sack," returned Wamba; "but thinkest thou that it
is lawful for me to aid you to transmew thyself from a holy hermit into
a sinful forester? "

So saying, he accommodated the friar with his assistance in tying the
endless number of points, as the laces which attached the hose to the
doublet were then termed.

While they were thus employed, Locksley led the knight a little apart
and addressed him thus: "Deny it not, sir knight, you are he who played
so glorious a part at the tournament at Ashby. "

"And what follows, if you guess truly, good yeoman? "

"For my purpose," said the yeoman, "thou shouldst be as well a good
Englishman as a good knight; for that which I have to speak of concerns,
indeed, the duty of every honest man, but is more especially that of a
true-born native of England. "

"You can speak to no one," replied the knight, "to whom England, and
the life of every Englishman, can be dearer than to me. "

"I would willingly believe so," said the woodsman; "and never had this
country such need to be supported by those who love her. A band of
villains, in the disguise of better men than themselves, have become
masters of the persons of a noble Englishman named Cedric the Saxon,
together with his ward and his friend, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, and
have transported them to a castle in this forest called Torquilstone. I
ask of thee, as a good knight and a good Englishman, wilt thou aid in
their rescue? "

"I am bound by my vow to do so," replied the knight; "but I would
willingly know who you are who request my assistance in their behalf? "

"I am," said the forester, "a nameless man; but I am a friend of my
country and my country's friends. Believe, however, that my word, when
pledged, is as [v]inviolate as if I wore golden spurs. "

"I willingly believe it," returned the knight. "I have been accustomed
to study men's countenances, and I can read in thine honesty and
resolution. I will, therefore, ask thee no farther questions but aid
thee in setting at freedom these oppressed captives, which done, I trust
we shall part better acquainted and well satisfied with each other. "

When the friar was at length ready, Locksley turned to his companions.

"Come on, my masters," he said; "tarry not to talk. I say, come on: we
must collect all our forces, and few enough shall we have if we are to
storm the castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. "


II

While these measures were taking in behalf of Cedric and his companions,
the armed men by whom the latter had been seized hurried their captives
along toward the place of security, where they intended to imprison
them. But darkness came on fast, and the paths of the wood seemed but
imperfectly known to the [v]marauders. They were compelled to make
several long halts and once or twice to return on their road to resume
the direction which they wished to pursue. It was, therefore, not until
the light of the summer morn had dawned upon them that they could travel
in full assurance that they held the right path.

In vain Cedric [v]expostulated with his guards, who refused to break
their silence for his wrath or his protests. They continued to hurry him
along, traveling at a very rapid rate, until, at the end of an avenue of
huge trees, arose Torquilstone, the hoary and ancient castle of Reginald
Front-de-Boeuf. It was a fortress of no great size, consisting of a
donjon, or large and high square tower, surrounded by buildings of
inferior height. Around the exterior wall was a deep moat, supplied with
water from a neighboring rivulet. Front-de-Boeuf, whose character
placed him often at feud with his neighbors, had made considerable
additions to the strength of his castle by building towers upon the
outward wall, so as to flank it at every angle. The access, as usual in
castles of the period, lay through an arched [v]barbican or outwork,
which was defended by a small turret.

Cedric no sooner saw the turrets of Front-de-Boeuf's castle raise their
gray and moss-grown battlements, glimmering in the morning sun, above
the woods by which they were surrounded than he instantly augured more
truly concerning the cause of his misfortune.

"I did injustice," he said, "to the thieves and outlaws of these woods,
when I supposed such banditti to belong to their bands. I might as
justly have confounded the foxes of these brakes with the ravening
wolves of France! "

Arrived before the castle, the prisoners were compelled by their guards
to alight and were hastened across the drawbridge into the castle. They
were immediately conducted to an apartment where a hasty repast was
offered them, of which none but Athelstane felt any inclination to
partake. Neither did he have much time to do justice to the good cheer
placed before him, for the guards gave him and Cedric to understand that
they were to be imprisoned in a chamber apart from Rowena. Resistance
was vain; and they were compelled to follow to a large room, which,
rising on clumsy Saxon pillars, resembled the [v]refectories and
chapter-houses which may still be seen in the most ancient parts of our
most ancient monasteries.

The Lady Rowena was next separated from her train and conducted with
courtesy, indeed, but still without consulting her inclination, to a
distant apartment. The same alarming distinction was conferred on the
young Jewess, Rebecca, in spite of the entreaties of her father, who
offered money in the extremity of his distress that she might be
permitted to abide with him.

"Base unbeliever," answered one of his guards, "when thou hast seen thy
lair, thou wilt not wish thy daughter to partake it. "

Without further discussion, the old Jew was dragged off in a different
direction from the other prisoners. The domestics, after being searched
and disarmed, were confined in another part of the castle.

The three leaders of the banditti and the men who had planned and
carried out the outrage, Norman knights,--Front-de-Boeuf, the brutal
owner of the castle; Maurice de Bracy, a free-lance, who sought to wed
the Lady Rowena by force and so had arranged the attack, and Brian de
[v]Bois-Guilbert, a distinguished member of the famous order of
[v]Knights Templar,--had a short discussion together and then
separated. Front-de-Boeuf immediately sought the apartment where Isaac
of York tremblingly awaited his fate.

The Jew had been hastily thrown into a dungeon-vault of the castle, the
floor of which was deep beneath the level of the earth, and very damp,
being lower than the moat itself. The only light was received through
one or two loop-holes far above the reach of the captive's hand. These
[v]apertures admitted, even at midday, only a dim and uncertain light,
which was changed for utter darkness long before the rest of the castle
had lost the blessing of day. Chains and shackles, which had been the
portion of former captives, hung rusted and empty on the walls of the
prison, and in the rings of one of these sets of fetters there remained
two moldering bones which seemed those of the human leg.

At one end of this ghastly apartment was a large fire-grate, over the
top of which were stretched some transverse iron bars, half devoured
with rust.

The whole appearance of the dungeon might have appalled a stouter heart
than that of Isaac, who, nevertheless, was more composed under the
imminent pressure of danger than he had seemed to be while affected by
terrors of which the cause was as yet remote and [v]contingent. It was
not the first time that Isaac had been placed in circumstances so
dangerous. He had, therefore, experience to guide him, as well as a hope
that he might again be delivered from the peril.

The Jew remained without altering his position for nearly three hours,
at the end of which time steps were heard on the dungeon stair. The
bolts screamed as they were withdrawn, the hinges creaked as the wicket
opened, and Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, followed by two Saracen slaves of
the Templar, entered the prison.

Front-de-Boeuf, a tall and strong man, whose life had been spent in
public war or in private feuds and broils and who had hesitated at no
means of extending his [v]feudal power, had features corresponding to
his character, and which strongly expressed the fiercer and more evil
passions of the mind. The scars with which his visage was seamed would,
on features of a different cast, have excited the sympathy due to the
marks of honorable valor; but in the peculiar case of Front-de-Boeuf
they only added to the ferocity of his countenance and to the dread
which his presence inspired. The formidable baron was clad in a leathern
doublet, fitted close to his body, which was frayed and soiled with the
stains of his armor. He had no weapon, except a [v]poniard at his belt,
which served to counter-balance the weight of the bunch of rusty keys
that hung at his right side.

The black slaves who attended Front-de-Boeuf were attired in jerkins and
trousers of coarse linen, their sleeves being tucked up above the elbow,
like those of butchers when about to exercise their functions in the
slaughter-house. Each had in his hand a small [v]pannier; and when they
entered the dungeon, they paused at the door until Front-de-Boeuf
himself carefully locked and double-locked it. Having taken this
precaution, he advanced slowly up the apartment toward the Jew, upon
whom he kept his eye fixed as if he wished to paralyze him with his
glance, as some animals are said to fascinate their prey.

The Jew sat with his mouth agape and his eyes fixed on the savage baron
with such earnestness of terror that his frame seemed literally to
shrink together and diminish in size while encountering the fierce
Norman's fixed and baleful gaze. The unhappy Isaac was deprived not only
of the power of rising to make the [v]obeisance which his fear had
dictated, but he could not even doff his cap or utter any word of
supplication, so strongly was he agitated by the conviction that
tortures and death were impending over him.

On the other hand, the stately form of the Norman appeared to dilate in
magnitude, like that of the eagle, which ruffles up its plumage when
about to pounce on its defenseless prey. He paused within three steps of
the corner in which the unfortunate Hebrew had now, as it were, coiled
himself up into the smallest possible space, and made a sign for one of
the slaves to approach. The black [v]satellite came forward accordingly,
and producing from his basket a large pair of scales and several
weights, he laid them at the feet of Front-de-Boeuf and retired to the
respectful distance at which his companion had already taken his
station.

The motions of these men were slow and solemn, as if there impended over
their souls some [v]preconception of horror and cruelty. Front-de-Boeuf
himself opened the scene by addressing his ill-fated captive.

"Most accursed dog," he said, awakening with his deep and sullen voice
the echoes of the dungeon vault, "seest thou these scales?